


Once They Come Again

by solitaryjane



Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Fluff, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2019-12-15
Packaged: 2021-02-26 19:48:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,404
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21794230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/solitaryjane/pseuds/solitaryjane
Summary: They said that there were ships that left long before The War had torn the Earth apart. They were supposed to come back, once everything had settled, to help people rebuild. Q always thought it was a bunch of hogwash. It didn't matter to him much anyway: he had James with him, and that was more than enough.But, he supposed, they could all use a little bit of hope.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 4
Kudos: 56
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	Once They Come Again

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the anonymous prompt: “The end of the world has come and gone. It is now time to rebuild. 00Q preferred but other pairings welcome too!”
> 
> This is completely AU. I changed the characters' ages a bit to fit better with the background. Q is in his mid-twenties. James is in his early thirties. And Mallory is in his early fifties.

The panel cover snapped into place with a satisfying click. Q picked up the wrench from his worktable and tightened the loose bolts. All he had to do after this was to take the thing outside and hook it up to the generator, and hopefully it would run. That would have to wait a bit, though; the box was way too heavy for him to handle alone. James was still digging out in the fields, and Mallory had yet to come back from town.

But the machine itself was finished. Done. Months of sleepless nights and scavenging for parts and finally, finally, the communicator was complete. Q smiled. He stood up and stretched out his stiff back, noticing that the sun had already started to travel its way westward outside the open window. His stomach growled as if on cue. Breakfast was hours ago, but perhaps there were still some bread and cheese left out in the kitchen.

The backdoor swung open just as he made his way to the pantry. A gust of cold air followed, making Q pull his cardigan tighter around himself, but his smile remained when he saw James stepping inside a moment later. His shirt and jeans were splattered with mud and there was a basket of potatoes under his arm. Q turned and stepped forward, planting a chaste kiss on his lover's weather-reddened cheeks.

“All done?” James asked, depositing the basket onto the kitchen counter.

“Yes. I may need some help moving it in position, but that can wait until later – I’m starving. How’re the crops?” Q picked up a potato, contemplating if he should just fry one up instead of trying day-old bread. “Are we all set for this winter?”

“Should be,” James replied. “If that communicator of yours works like you said, we might not need to be asking this question at all.”

“It’ll work. The problems, if there are any, will be on their end. That's completely out of my control.”

“Arrogant git.”

Q laughed. He leaned back against the counter, drawing James closer for a more thorough kiss. James pressed in between his parted thighs and Q let out a small moan. “I’m in a celebratory mood. Think we can squeeze in a quickie before M gets back?”

“I thought someone said he was starving.”

“You’re turning down sex so you can cook me a potato?”

“I’m suggesting _postponing_ sex so we can have a proper dinner, with M and the new supplies, and perhaps that bottle of shine we got in the back.”

Q gasped, and it wasn’t completely because of where James had just slipped his hands into. “We’re breaking those out already? You know we have no proof that anyone out in space is close enough to pick up this signal, despite what M’s predictions of the timeframe.”

“Then we waste some alcohol before first frost sets in,” James shrugged. “Not a bad trade, especially if I get to have you all flushed and warm under me.”

“Mmm,” was all Q said, as he pulled his lover down further and kissed him deep.

***

Q was born long after the fighting had stopped. Lucky, James always said, for he didn’t have to watch people die from mortar shells or poison gas, nor succumb to the slow and excruciating radiation sickness afterwards. Q begged to differ. Sure, he avoided the worst aspects that humanity had wrought upon itself, but he didn’t get very far from the cesspool that was the Lower Pods. Otherwise he would’ve never had to tangle with Silva’s crew. But then he wouldn’t have met James either, and would probably still be stuck inside the cramped Bunkers to this day.

“What made you decide that I was worth all this trouble?” he’d ask James from time to time while lying in bed, with Mallory’s snoring coming through the walls next to his pillow. Being a cheeky little shit, he’d add, “Was I that good of a fuck?” while trying to pull down James’s pajamas, to which the blond would respond with a sigh, but never once did he try to stop Q’s wandering hands.

“I thought you were too smart to be left under someone like Silva,” James would answer. “He’d have worked you to the bone, made a killing off your inventions, and cast you aside like dirt. I had to get you out before that happened.”

“So, not at all because I gave you the best head you’ve ever had?”

“Go to sleep, the two of you,” Mallory cut in from the adjacent room, evidently woken up by their banter. “I hear enough of your sex life as is.”

James bit his lips to keep from laughing. “He’s just jealous that we have one,” he responded, and Q openly giggled.

“I heard that.”

“That’s not a refutation.” Q quipped back.

They heard Mallory groan and mumble something about corrupted youth. But they quieted down regardless, not only because Mallory was right – there was work to be done in the morning – but also that they respected the old man greatly. He was one of the pioneers who first ventured out of the Bunkers to settle into the wild unknown. He also saved both of their lives when they were escaping from Silva, and for that they were forever grateful.

Mallory, incidentally, was one of those people who believed the ships were due back soon. The fleets had left Earth when the War was just starting, having predicted the apocalyptic turn in the horizon. “They’ll be back,” he’d always say. “Might take 100 years, but they’ll get homesick. And this planet isn’t a lost cause by any means. They’ll wait until the land’s recovered enough, and then come back to rebuild.”

“Do you think we’ll live long enough for their return?” Q would ask.

“My father had seen them leave with his own eyes. He was a child then, and didn’t have me until he was almost an old man. I’m an old man now. It won’t be much longer.”

It was almost impressive, and somewhat inevitable, that he was right.

***

They moved the communicator to the hills before the sun had dipped below the trees. It sat sturdy on the wooden platform, as Q ran a thick cable from the generator to connected to its power core. Later James’d have to bury all the wires to protect them from the elements, but for now they simply let them lie. The communicator might not work, despite Q’s boasts, then they’d have to carry the damn thing back inside to get fixed again.

Q looked over at James and reached for his hand. The blond obliged, giving him a warm, encouraging smile. Q couldn’t quite muster his own. “Do you think –” he started to ask, but James put a finger on his lips, and leaned over to plant a kiss on his head.

“I trust your abilities,” James said. “Come on, let’s give her a whirl.”

Q nodded numbly. He turned toward the heavy box, took in a deep breath, and reached down to flip on the power switch. The machine clanked and shuddered, blinking its various colored lights as it came to life. A persistent hum rose from the clamor, the dials swung back and forth for a few cycles before leveling out, and the light next to the display turned from a worrying amber to a deep, steady green.

“I…I think it’s working.” Q blinked. He crouched down to fiddle with some knobs, but his voice was pitching up in growing excitement. “Yes, yes! Everything looks…absolutely amazing! You can actually see it send out the correct numbers and – Oh, James!”

He jumped up and threw himself into his lover's arms. The other man grunted, surprised at the sudden weight, but still managed to hold his ground as they met in a passionate kiss. Q exclaimed in triumph as he got back on his own feet. “We did it! We actually did it! If there are ANY ships even remotely CLOSE to Earth’s orbit they would be able to pick up this signal. And then they’ll bring back the lost tech and everything will –”

“One step at a time, Q,” James chuckled, the corners of his eyes crinkled in mirth. Q didn’t think he could look any hotter than right this moment. “It also might blow up in the middle of the night. We won’t know until after, no?”

“What is with you and explosions? It’s like you just expect them to go off around you all the time.”

“Because they usually do,” James said. He paused, his gaze going over to the distant trees. “And I think that’s the buggy coming in. Let’s head back down; I’m sure M will be thrilled with this news.”

Mallory was. It was like years of stress that plagued his expressions simply fell away, and a joyful spark now shone brightly in his grey-blue eyes. He whistled a tune as they unloaded the goods from the buggy – rice, beans, pickles, dried meats, along with sacks of tools and tubes of toothpaste and, to Q’s utter delight, three large jars of cold cream. The winters always wreaked havoc on all of their hands, and Q absolutely despised cracked knuckles while tinkering with machinery. He put the jars carefully into storage, determined to drag out the usage for as long as he could.

James, true to his word, cooked them all a properly large dinner with the new provisions. It might be a bit optimistic at this juncture, but some celebration before bracing the winter was nevertheless good for the soul. They opened up not one, but two bottles of shine to go with the feast. Q realized he might have been hogging the drink a bit when he reached to pour himself another mug, and James stopped him by taking the bottle away.

“I thought you want me all flushed and warm for you?” Q pouted.

“Believe me, darling, you are well on your way past that. Save some for the chef and the old man here, hmm?”

Mallory must’ve been in a great mood, for he ignored their nonsense and speared some more lamb onto his plate. Q, already filled with food and warm with alcohol, began to feel another kind of hunger gnawing. He slipped his hand under the table, stroking deft fingers against the outside of his lover's thighs. James leveled him a look.

“Give me some time to digest the food, at least.” he said.

“You can digest the food in bed while I do all the work.”

He could tell that James wanted to argue, but then thought more about it, and instead let out a wolfish grin. Q grinned back. He grabbed the blond’s hands and dragged him up from the table. “I’ll clean up all this later,” he called over his shoulder as they retreated hastily toward the bedroom. “Promise.”

“If either of you throw up, or break the bed, that’s your own problem.” Mallory said. “And don’t use the damn cooking oil this time. We need it to actually _cook_.”

They didn’t break the bed. Or threw up, although Q felt a bit woozy at one point from the lack of blood flow to his head. They were, however, quite loud, both from being slightly drunk and that Q had always been vocal, but usually tried to hold himself in check due to super thin walls and a semblance of decorum. He passed out after round two, sticky and satiated, James’s warmth a cocoon on his back.

When he woke it was fully dark. The moon was half full hanging outside the window, unobstructed by clouds and surrounded by countless stars. It took him a second to realize that James was not in bed with him, and that the wall next to his pillow was equally silent. He got up, pulling on a pair of pants and a shirt left hanging on the side of the bed – James’s, and smelled deliciously like him. Quietly he padded through the cottage. Soon he saw that light by the backdoor was on, illuminating two figures sitting on the steps, an almost empty bottle of shine between them.

“So,” James’s voice was slightly hoarse from their exertion earlier. Q couldn’t help a fond smile. “What now?”

“Now we wait.” Mallory answered. His diction was a bit slurred, but he sounded lucid enough. The shine, in actuality, wasn’t all that strong.

“You really think this’ll do it? Send out a signal to god-knows-where and it’ll get picked up, just like that?"

"That's the plan. How effective it will be is yet to be determined."

“How do you know that they didn’t just go off into space?”

“They can’t. The ships weren’t constructed to travel long distances. I don’t think they considered the extent of damage we’d done to ourselves, though. Probably expected at least a manned space station would still be left up.”

James took a swig from his mug. “So this signal is, what, the first sign they’ll have that we’re still alive down here?”

“Hopefully not the first,” Mallory said. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. “Don’t listen to this old man’s maudlin rants. The ships _will_ come back, and when they do, they will hone in on your signal, and this,” he gestured around him, “mess, will be over.”

“Honestly, I don’t think we’re doing that badly for ourselves.” James said quietly.

“I agree,” Q spoke up, startling the both of them. He walked out and settled next to James, who put a protective arm around his shoulder. “Now that we have a way of sending signal, maybe we can try to communicate with others elsewhere on Earth. In Australia, or the Americas. There’s got to be people out over there, too.”

“Easy, darling,” James said. “Let’s make sure this one doesn’t attract trouble first.”

“Just you two being around is enough to attract trouble,” Mallory stated. “An additional machine or two wouldn’t change much.”

James’s laughter was a gentle rumble against Q’s side. He smiled back, laying his head on top of James’s shoulder and snuggled close. From this distance he could just make out a tiny red dot glowing on top of the hill. The communicator was working doggedly, and showed absolutely no sign of possible explosion.

 _Yeah_ , Q closed his eyes, content. _I think we’re going to be just fine._


End file.
